He flung himself into the arm-chair beside the hearth, where a feeble fire burnt neglected.
"Hamilton's a prisoner," he said gloomily. "What will they do with my faithful lord? How many noble lives have I not to avenge?"
As he spoke he thought (as he thought often now, too often for his own peace) of Strafford, his first great, awful, and useless sacrifice.
"If it cost my heart's blood I will not submit," he muttered, biting his lip.
But Lord Digby would not so easily relinquish his point--that the Parliament was a surer refuge from the army than Rupert or Ormonde, or any possible ships or possible men either of these Cavaliers might be able to command.
"Fairfax," he reminded the King, "sent Ireton to the House with a remonstrance from the army, protesting against the Parliament dealing with Your Majesty, and even daring to say that you should be brought to trial."
"But the House," replied the King, with a grim smile, "refused to consider these demands of 'armed sectaries.'"
"But the army," persisted Lord Digby, "hath the power."
"I will be free of all of them," cried Charles passionately. "Of the army, of the Parliament, of all their cursed sects and heresies."
He lapsed into a melancholy silence again. My lord put another log on the fire and stirred the faint flames to a blaze.
"In the Queen's letter of this morning," said Charles suddenly, "she mentioned that loyal gentlewoman, Margaret Lucas--she hath fallen ill. When she had the news of the end of her brother, Sir Charles, she was as one who had received a death-sentence."
Tears moistened his own eyes. He was not usually very sensible of the sorrows of those who were ruined in his service, and gratitude was no part of his character or tradition; yet there was something in the story of the gallant young Lucas, who, after an heroic defence of Colchester, had surrendered on terms which bargained for quarter for the inferiors, but left the superiors at the mercy of the enemy, yet who had been taken out with his fellow-officer, Sir George Lisle, and shot like a dog before those walls he had so valiantly defended through three months of famine and misery, which moved the King, even to tears.
"Ireton's doing," he cried. "Jesus God! grant that I may send Ireton to Tyburn one day."